


Ghost In The Wind

by BarqueBatch



Series: Continuum [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bucky Barnes Returns, Bucky's not fucking around, Bucky's not quite Bucky yet, Gen, Graphic Violence, HYDRA's in for it, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Torture, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, The really bad memories haven't set in yet, There's a lot he hasn't made sense of yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-21 12:38:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3692607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarqueBatch/pseuds/BarqueBatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The asset left Steve Rogers on the bank of the Potomac. He's set his own new objectives now, but he needs information. He can't afford to confront Steve. The obvious choice is one that's risky, but necessary.</p><p>Sequel to "Save You, Save Myself"<br/>Prequel to "At His Three" and "This Is A Shit Mission"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Quid Pro Quo

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry I've been off the grid but life's been a little hectic. I'm still working on Revenir, but this section of this AU was nagging at me. It's important to how Bucky deals with things in the coming chapters of Revenir. :)
> 
> I also apologize for being behind on feedback. I'm going to try to get caught up this week. Much love! Hope everyone's doing good and had a nice Easter (if you celebrate it).

The asset wasn’t sure how much courage he actually possessed, but it took every bit he had to step into the spacious apartment, slip into a shadow, and wait. He wasn’t afraid of the man he came to confront. He was afraid of what the man might tell him. It was an unknown, and within the parameters set for him by HYDRA, the unknown never amounted to anything good. He needed information though, and the man was the only viable option he currently had.    
  
He’d learned all he could from Pierce’s files once he’d caught wind of the elder man’s death. The shock of it had been so jarring that he’d had to leave the small diner before they brought him the sandwich he’d ordered. Even now, he wasn’t sure whether the retching he’d done in the alley had been from relief or the sudden terror of being truly on his own. For all the brutal things Pierce had ordered, he was a face that had been constant for a long time. That perception sickened the asset now; it seemed weak and pathetic now that he’d read some of the journal Pierce kept on him. So much of it had come flooding back as he read Pierce’s private thoughts about the Winter Soldier, a moniker Pierce never used in his writings. He only ever used ‘asset’. Lower case. A thing. Never a human being with a given name and a history. Only a weapon to be aimed, fired, maintenanced, emptied, then returned to cold storage.   
  
He had a name though. Steve Rogers gave him a name and, while it didn’t feel quite right, it was his, and he was sure it would feel different in time. He’d doubted until he’d found the Smithsonian exhibit. Seeing his own face staring back at him had caused him to freeze up at first. All he could do was stare in awe of the young man in the bright blue coat. There was such reverence in people’s faces as they read his story, and touched the cases that held items he’d owned. Little boys leaning over the railing to touch Bucky Barnes’ iconic uniform while their best friend or brother strained to place their chubby palm against the replica of Captain America’s shield.   
  
It had been too much that first visit, standing there with the faint scent of the Potomac still lingering in his fatigues and undershirt. If anyone noticed, they’d been polite enough not to give him any odd looks. Still, he’d made a hasty retreat until he could quell the nausea and get his mind clear enough to return.    
  
When he did go back, it was in jeans, a denim jacket and a baseball cap that he’d purchased at a thrift shop. This time, he was actually able to read. To absorb. To memorize the smiles of the two men in the black and white video. The men seemed like two completely different people. He felt nothing kindred to the man in the footage beyond an odd tugging at the back of his mind, and Steve Rogers bore little resemblance to the man he’d faced on the bridge and the helicarrier. His mind’s eye gave him fuzzy images, brief and disconnected, but they made no real sense. Only flickers, like a broken newsreel. He’d stared at Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers until he no longer really saw them. All he saw was the building hatred for everything associated with HYDRA, with Alexander Pierce, and with anyone loyal to that regime. He didn’t yet know who he could trust, but he knew that he wanted to grind the remnants of HYDRA into the ground.    
  
He would wait for the right moment, then he would unleash seven different Hells upon HYDRA. First he needed intel on HYDRA and SHIELD, but also on himself and on Steve Rogers. Coming to this apartment was his best chance of obtaining that on all four.   
  
The door opened and the man entered. He seemed even more weary than he had the first time they crossed paths.   
  
“You can come out. I know when someone’s let themselves in.”   
  
Even though he was completely enveloped within the shadow of the corner, the man turned and seemingly looked right at him. At first he didn’t move, noting the gun in the other man’s hand, but he stepped from the darkness finally, his palm giving reassuring sounds as it scraped against the grip of his Sig Sauer.   
  
“Yeah… was wonderin’ when you’d show up here, Barnes. You either came to finish what you started, or you’re here about Rogers.”   
  
He ignored the questions and answered with one of his own. “You killed Alexander Pierce.”   
  
Nick Fury met his gaze squarely. His grip on his sidearm remained relaxed as he nodded.    
  
“Sure did.”   
  
“Then I would almost say I owed you one,” the asset informed him quietly. Fury’s brows didn’t even arch.   
  
“Almost?”   
  
The asset felt no need to give him an answer. Fury hadn’t gotten to where he was by relying on the kinds of questions he was asking right now. He was feeling out the asset. The less the asset actually said, the better, but he would do this dance just enough to get what he came for.   
  
“You pulled Steve Rogers from the Potomac. I would almost say I owed you.”   
  
That wasn’t a question, so again, the asset felt no need to respond. He didn’t need Fury to owe him, and Fury clearly knew that, which he confirmed quickly enough.   
  
“Almost.”   
  
The asset waited him out. He would ask a direct question soon enough.   
  
“So where does that leave us? Whose side are you on now, Barnes?”   
  
One part of his brain wanted to shrink away from the name. Another part, one that was rapidly pushing itself to dominance, thrilled at having that name directed at him. Being called ‘Barnes’ made him feel powerful in a way that just pointing a gun couldn’t. ‘Barnes’ carried respect and honor with it, and that was something that he wanted desperately to latch onto, whether he deserved to or not.   
  
“My own,” he answered, keeping his expression carefully blank.   
  
“Well at least you’re honest about it,” Fury retorted lightly. He rolled his head a little to the side.  “You didn’t come here to talk about  _ your _ loyalties though.”   
  
That was true enough, and the asset had no problem confirming it. “I want to know what you know about Steve Rogers, HYDRA, and SHIELD.”   
  
“There is no SHIELD anymore. At least not for a while,” Fury declared flatly. “The world needs to know that SHIELD did a lot more good than bad before they’ll let it make a reappearance.”   
  
“Good. One less thing to be suspicious of.” Fury didn't seem impressed with his opinion, but he didn't jump to defend the organization either.  
  
“Not much HYDRA left either,” he pointed out. The asset hardened his eyes at the former SHIELD director. This mentality was what allowed HYDRA to gain the foothold it did; out of sight, out of mind.   
  
“Never discount HYDRA, no matter how scattered they are now. They will regroup and rebuild.”   
  
“I know,” Fury replied without argument. “Without government oversight breathing down my neck, I’ll be able to track them down before they have a chance.”   
  
“I’m already doing that,” the asset dismissed, his fingers whining softly as they tightened upon his gun grip.   
  
“You’ll need help.”   
  
“No,” the asset corrected. “I just need intel. From you.”   
  
“You probably know more about HYDRA than most-”   
  
“I know my side,” he cut in. “I need to know yours, what information they’re feeding you.”

  
“My guard’s up even more than it was,” Fury frowned darkly. “I’m not just going to buy into everything I’m hearing.”   
  
“You shouldn’t buy into any of it,” the asset scoffed. “There are no double agents in HYDRA. Anything you hear will be what they _want_ you to hear. You send anyone to act on it, they’ll die. All of them.”   
  


“Tit for tat then, Barnes,” Fury grunted with a slight gesture of his hand. “You tell me what intel HYDRA has on us and we’ll play nice for now.”   
  
“For now...” The asset let the unasked question hang for Fury, distrusting his offer.   
  
“You did try to kill me,” Fury clarified curtly. “You tried to kill Steve Rogers. Damn near finished the job on both of us.”   
  
“You’re a lucky man. Only three people have survived me in seventy years.” That he could find anyway. The files he’d found had gaping holes in them, but the Winter Soldier’s name was linked to absolute success, not failures. His reputation was iron-clad and spoke for itself.   
  
“So you saying Rogers isn’t lucky? I can point you to some medical staff that would disagree.”   
  
“I’m saying he’s an idiot,” the asset snarled, the annoyance in his tone surprising him. It felt informed beyond just watching Rogers throw down his shield in the face of a fight. It was something instinctual that he couldn't yet pinpoint to a specific origin.   
  
“So you’re remembering a lot,” Fury smirked, and that confused the asset even more. These were slippery rocks he was walking over, and he needed to be extra careful with Fury.   
  
“I’ve been reading.” He answered without detail, but gestured to the table. Fury’s eyes flicked over to the stack of dossiers. Several discs sat next to them.   
  
“Source?” Fury asked carefully.   
  
“Alexander Pierce's personal safe in the floor of his study.”    
  
Fury stared back at him dubiously. “And you just happened to have access to his safe?”   
  
The asset flexed his arm, the plates clicking softly in the silence of the apartment. 

  
“No.”   
  
He didn’t need to go into the methods he’d used to get into the safe. He’d nearly fried his arm permanently when he tripped the laser mesh. The contents of the safe wouldn’t have been worth it if he hadn’t found basic maintenance and reactivation sequences for his prosthetic. They wouldn’t solve every problem, but they’d definitely come in handy, as would the key codes for safes in the main US boltholes.  
  
Fury walked to the table and pushed the folders around until he found one he wanted. He flipped the cover open and skimmed the contents. It was Steve Rogers’ dossier.   
  
“You asked about Rogers.”   
  
“You need to keep him away from me.”   
  
Fury actually smiled at that. “You read this file. What makes you think I can make Rogers do anything?”   
  
“Find a new leash to put him on.”   
  
“He was never on much of a leash to begin with. He towed the line out of a sense of duty before, but if he believes he’s right about something, he’ll take the matter into his own hands. He can be a real pain in the ass that way. With SHIELD gutted, he’s a free agent.”   
  
“Find a way. He needs to stay out of my path.”   
  
“Why do you want intel on him if you want him off your six?”   
  


It took him a heavy moment to respond. The less anyone knew about him the better, but Fury wouldn’t give much up without reciprocity. He barely remembered a time where he had to walk such a fine line. He hadn’t needed to negotiate with anyone in a long time. The late seventies, if the files were accurate. He had no reason to believe they weren’t.   
  
“I have memories. I need to know whether they’re real or implanted.”   
  
“What we know about Rogers is limited to a science lesson. The rest is limited to whatever the two of you allowed the cameras to see during the war. Your sister, your teachers, Agent Carter, Colonel Phillips, the members of the Howling Commandos… they all stayed tight-lipped about both of you after you both were presumed dead. Rogers himself is even worse. Not a lot we know apart from what the history books say. You’d know more than we would.”   
  
Fury’s words started a bonfire inside his gut. How was he supposed to sort out the chaos inside his head without any type of litmus test?   
  
He leveled his eyes at Fury knowingly. This was a man that had seen his own assassination coming with enough clarity that he’d had the right failsafes in place. 

  
“You’re a pretty good liar, but you were close to Pierce for a long time. He was clear about how difficult it was to keep your trust. You turned to Rogers when you knew you were on the block. You aren’t the type to trust anyone without more than a Smithsonian exhibit worth of information on them.”  
  
“I know what he wears on his sleeve," Fury answered with a quick roll of his eyes. "Idealistic. Fairly self-righteous. All about the underdog. Hard to earn his trust. Once you do, he’s loyal until you give him reason not to be. Hard to get lies past him because he remembers everything. Short fuse. Smart ass. But... he’s a good man… which mostly makes him a relic in this town.”  
  
The asset’s chin lifted as he narrowed his eyes at Fury. Something indignant welled up inside him. Something new, but not necessarily unfamiliar.  
  
“Lie to him often?”  
  
Fury's lips pursed as he shifted, tapping his fingertips to the tabletop. “Everyone lies, Barnes. Only difference is Rogers doesn’t do it much because he’s really, _really_ shitty at it.” Fury sat down slowly, keeping the asset well within his peripheral. “No, I don’t worry about people lying to me; I worry about the motives behind the lies. That’s what’ll bite you in the ass.”  
  
“You cover your ass better than most." The asset's tone was more accusing than he meant to project. Again, it was a little confusing. He wasn't sure where this aggressiveness was boiling up from. Up to now, Fury was just a target, an objective to fulfill. He'd held no personal feelings one way or the other for the man.  
  
Fury shrugged with the hint of a very dangerous smile upon his lips. “Not sure why so many folks forget that… but they do. Pierce almost got me, but we all need reminders from time to time, don’t we?”  
  
“Serving HYDRA taught me that ‘almost’ never counts for anything. It’s all or nothing.” He wasn’t sure why he said it, other than he needed Fury to stay alive now, and that seemed a long shot while Fury refused to remain properly vigilant. The asset hoped Fury was putting on airs so that he’d be underestimated.  
  
Fury swiveled his head to glare at him. “You didn’t _serve_ HYDRA. You were used. You were beaten and brainwashed until there was nothing left to question what they told you, and then they pointed you in the direction they wanted you to go. Don’t give HYDRA any respect they don’t deserve.”  
  
“You’re in danger of not giving them enough,” the asset reminded him. “They don’t play by your rules. They never have.”  
  
“You’re forgetting that I’m off leash too, Barnes. No one’s giving me orders now. There’s a lot of people that want you brought in by any means necessary. Most of them want your head on a platter.”  
  
“Good luck with that.”  
  
“Lucky for you, I don’t answer to them anymore.” Fury gave him a long, appraising look. “You want to know more about Steve Rogers? Go ask him. He’s in Brooklyn hoping you’ll go back there.”  
  
“No.”  
  
Fury raised his hands in mock surrender after he set his gun down upon the table.  
  
“Best to go to the source, but if you’re not going to do that, start digging into Bucky Barnes. The more you remember of him the better, because he’s the only card you’ve got to play if you’re captured by our side.”  
  
“None of your side is ruthless enough to bring me in.” He didn’t feel any arrogance as he said it. It was a fact. “That’s why you haven’t wiped out HYDRA completely. That’s why you’d better keep everyone out of my way, especially Rogers. I’m not going to stop until HYDRA is gone. I will go through anyone I have to in order to finish that objective.”  
  
“It’s better that he doesn’t know you contacted me. Quickest way to get Rogers hot on your tail again is for me to tell him to back off. You’re better off telling him yourself.”  
  
When that got him no response, Fury sighed and pulled a piece of paper off of a tablet and began writing on it. He pushed it across the table, aware that holding it out would get no reaction.  
  
“These are the boltholes cleared out by our side so far. They haven’t found the bank vault yet, but I don’t know how long that’ll last. I’m assuming you want that chair destroyed.”  
  
He couldn’t entirely suppress the shudder that ran through his body at the mention of the chair. It was possible that Fury was setting him up, but it would be just as easy to try to take him down now. Fury didn’t seem overly concerned with cornering him. He suspected that Fury believed he stood a better chance than the military and remnants of SHIELD did at clearing out HYDRA locations. Fury would likely have him followed at least, so that he could send people in, either after the fact or as backup. He didn’t want backup though. He didn’t want to worry about collateral damage. He just wanted to be able to go in and kill everything that moved, then blow each place sky high.  
  
He turned to go, but Fury’s voice made him pause at the window.  
  
“You want to know what I know, so how do I contact you?”  
  
The asset turned to look over his shoulder.  
  
“You don’t. You’ll know where I am when I want you to know.”  
  
“And emergencies?” Fury was just testing him now, but no matter. He said he’d play nice for the time being and he would. At much as possible anyway.  
  
“If it’s an emergency big enough to matter, I’ll know about it anyway.”  
  
It was late enough that when he dropped from the fire escape on Fury’s floor, he knew exactly which direction he was heading.   
  
He had a vault to destroy.


	2. Catastrophic Event

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chair was his objective. It had to go. The databank of files as well. They would never turn him back into the asset or create another like him ever again. He would destroy it all even if he ended up going down with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was NOT an easy section to write for me. I'm still not entirely sure how I feel about it, so feedback is especially appreciated this chapter. Please heed the tags added:
> 
> Graphic violence  
> Referenced past sexual abuse  
> Referenced medical experimentation

The problem with the vault base was that it wasn’t just some subversive section of the building. It was the _entire_ building. The vault itself was tucked away in the depths of the second basement to discourage robberies when the building was still used as a bank. Which made reaching it an astounding pain in the ass if you weren’t supposed to be there.  
  
Infiltrating the base without setting off a warning had been incredibly hard. He hated camera bypasses. He could do them, but it wasn’t a strong skill for him. He still preferred doing it alone over taking precious time trying to find a trustworthy hack. It’d been tense, but he’d managed it and now each sector of the building was isolated from the others… without knowing it. He didn’t have long though. Protocols would have someone eventually noticing that what they were seeing on their monitors was a fifteen minute loop.  
  
The base was still full of HYDRA personnel despite the destruction of Project Insight and the death of Pierce. It was a hardcore, primary base. It had to be in order for the asset to be held here. No one here was remotely disloyal to HYDRA, and few of them were loyal just out of fear. The scientists and doctors were terrified of him, yeah, but only because they wanted a long, cushy career with HYDRA and didn’t want him killing or dismembering them before they achieved it, not because they’d been coerced in any way. He didn’t remember a lot yet, but what he did remember was men with no concept of humane treatment or compassion… which was why he had no problem snapping a neck or turning one into a human missile when the darkness bloomed through his chest… when the disjointed memories of snow and ice and falling and screaming bubbled up and skittered past his vision. When hurting caused him to want to hurt back.   
  
Sometimes it was nothing more than one of them interrupting a memory as it resurfaced. He hadn’t known who the blond boy that haunted him was until the Smithsonian. He’d often worried that it was his mind slipping away entirely and manufacturing a frail angel to help him cope. He hadn’t connected Steve Rogers to the brittle silhouette of his dreams. When he’d been sent to kill Rogers, the boy hadn’t returned to him yet. He’d been temporarily banished by the chair so the physical resemblance hadn’t registered. Sometimes he came back sooner. Sometimes it took longer.  
  
But his angel always came back, which was the absolute worst time imaginable for anyone to distract him with questions, or intrusive prodding. None of them knew why he snapped when he did. They referred to him as unstable, and he’d read Pierce’s musings about what silent triggers might cause him to become that way. Pierce assumed it was simply the aggressive nature of the asset's training, a byproduct of still riding the high of a mission combined with being cornered and restrained by his handlers. He remembered clearly how horribly it had all clicked into place for Pierce once he’d questioned having past ties to Rogers. Pierce had reacted without hesitation and, now that he remembered the punishment, he wished he’d remained silent. The confusion had been his undoing though.  
  
The pain had been unlike any other wipe he could remember. Normally he’d push memories like that aside, but now he used it. He basked in it and let the agony and hopelessness galvanize him into something the Winter Soldier had never been before: An avenger.

Striding into the room as though he still belonged there, James Buchanan Barnes felt calm and focused even as hellfire burned through his veins.

There were four sentry agents inside the room. He walked past the closest agent, pressed the silenced muzzle of his Sig Sauer to the back of his head, and ended his life with a sound no louder than a teenager popping their bubblegum. He already had the gun pressed to the next man’s temple before the first man’s blood found its way to the floor.  
  
“Who do you call in for a code crimson?” he asked calmly.  
  
The agent directly across from Barnes’ hostage immediately slammed his hand down over a panic button. The three remaining sentries looked at one another with confusion on their faces when nothing happened.  
  
A cruel, terrible smile painted his lips as he shifted his arm and shot the sentry who hit the button, then brought his weapon back to bear on the agent beside him. He tapped the agent’s temple with the now-warm silencer. Hyper-awareness likely had the man unable to smell anything but gunpowder and blood.   
  
“Let’s try again. Who do you call for code crimson?”  
  
“We don’t have a code crimson,” the agent clipped, trying to regain some of his bravado. “This isn’t the first time your programming has failed. I’m not calling anyone. They’ll realize there’s a problem soon enough.”  
  
Barnes’ metal arm shot out, grabbed the fourth sentry by his hair, and slammed his face onto his desktop. The agent made disgusting, gurgling noises as he fell from his chair. Barnes turned his deadly gaze back to the second agent.  
  
“I’m not a problem. I’m a fucking catastrophic event.” He flexed the fingers of his left hand and clenched them into a fist, making sure to send a surge of power to his prosthesis to make it whine loudly.

“You’ve got one chance left to survive me. Call your emergency director and get him into this fucking room. Now.”

The remaining agent swallowed loudly and breathed through his nose slowly. He picked up the phone and requested a man named Kellenberg.   
  
“Sir we have a developing situation... Need you up here.” He paused, his eyes fixed upon his monitors. “Not really sure. Think you should take a look.”  
  
Barnes could hear Kellenberg’s imperious retort plainly enough, and it stoked the fires of his rage nicely.

_ You’re not paid to think, Horner. _

“No sir, I’m not. That’s why I’m calling you.”  
  
Barnes’ mouth twitched. Horner. The name rang familiar, but he had no face to connect it to before now. Not surprising. Many HYDRA factions didn’t display names on their uniforms. You were nothing but a cog in a wheel, a nobody until you were somebody. Then you didn’t need a name tag because everyone just knew who you were.  
  
Horner would remain a nobody in HYDRA after that last remark to Kellenberg. He could take Barnes down right now, and there would be no accolades. That remark would hover above his head for as long as Kellenberg remained his commanding officer. You could be a smart ass all you wanted, so long as it was aimed at those beneath you. Once that attitude traveled upward to a C.O., you were fucked. Plain and simple.  
  
_______________________________________

 

Kellenberg entered the room and froze as a sharp pop went off behind him, and Horner slumped forward onto his console. He turned slowly and his complexion went white at seeing Barnes standing behind him.  
  
“Aрхипелаг!”  
  
 _Archipelago_. Not an everyday word. Innocuous within its intended usage, but it gave Barnes pause. His pulse fluttered uncomfortably when Kellenberg desperately stuttered the word at him. He stared at the center of the commander’s chest as his mind cycled through the objectives associated with the older trigger.   
  
None of them applied to the situation at hand.  
  
Staring down the barrel of the asset’s favored Sig Sauer, Kellenberg had latched onto the first verbal command trigger he could remember. In his sheer panic to save his own ass, he’d called out the wrong one.  
  
No one ever lived to fumble for a better one if the first didn’t work.  
  
The last thing you wanted to do when the asset malfunctioned was draw attention to yourself, and spitting out the wrong phrase did exactly that. Worse, it painted you as a threat to be neutralized, and no one was better at that than the Winter Soldier.  
  
Barnes raised his eyes to Kellenberg’s and smiled without one ounce of confusion in his eyes.  
  
“Пошел на хуй. Это не работает теперь.”  
  
Kellenberg blinked and shook his head, terrified that he wasn’t understanding, that the trigger didn’t work. He wasn’t confused once Barnes’ metal fingers shot outward to wrap around his throat.  
  
“You have a chance to walk away from this in one piece,” Barnes informed Kellenberg calmly as he clawed at the immovable hand. “We’re going to the vault, but you’re taking me the back way.”  
  
Kellenberg shook his head frantically, still smacking at the locked prosthetic. Barnes jerked Kellenberg’s body close so he could bore icy holes through the man with his eyes. It didn’t have the intended effect. Or at least, he didn’t expect it to affect him the way it did. Kellenberg was likely shitting himself, but Barnes was oblivious to it. A vision of Rogers, his throat similarly caught in Barnes’ vise-like grip, blurred out Kellenberg’s face. Azure eyes, defiant and determined stared back at Barnes. The feel of Rogers’ body flush against his own hadn’t registered in that brief moment, but now… now it was as if his mind had preserved every sensory perception of the contact.  
  
And this was definitely not the time to get lost in the memory recall.  
  
Barnes shook Kellenberg like a rag doll, and held him at arm’s length while he cleared his head of the vision. He lowered the man slightly so that he was glaring down at the HYDRA commander. That was definitely better.  
  
“One chance,” he repeated slowly, “or I’ll take you apart a piece at a time.”  
  
“Go ahead… and kill me,” Kellenberg wheezed past Barnes’ fist. “Hail HYDRA.”  
  
Again, Barnes found it easy to smile. “HYDRA is pain. How much do you think I’m capable of inflicting without killing you? How well do you think I was trained?”  
  
Barnes glanced at each of Kellenberg’s limbs thoughtfully.  
  
“Someone’ll haveta spoon-feed you baby food for the rest of your life… but you’ll live to wish you’d cooperated.” Barnes smiled at him brightly, the action feeling almost painful. “Besides, we’re just going for a walk to the vault.”  
  
Kellenberg was still trying to get enough air in his lungs to answer when Barnes heard footsteps. They were quiet, but not enough for him to miss. His right hand raised just outside of his peripheral to aim toward the door while his eyes remained fixed upon Kellenberg. It wouldn’t be the first shot he’d made essentially blind to his target, and very likely not his last.  
  
 _Trigger…_  
  
 _Pressure… pressure…_  
  
“Bucky!”  
  
 _Pressure disengage…_

Barnes didn’t lower his gun, but the soft, reverent call was urgent enough to pull his widened eyes to his target. Except it wasn’t his target. It was Rogers. The burly version of his blond angel was taking in the carnage of the room with furtive flicks of his eyes. Barnes wasn’t sorry for the mess of bodies, but having Rogers see them bothered him in a way that he didn’t like at all.  
  
“Unless you brought a rocket launcher, fuck off,” he snapped. It was admittedly harsh, but there was no room for idealism on this mission. It all had to go, and he doubted Rogers would be able to get behind his methods.  
  
“Sorry, left it at home with the tea and cake,” Rogers cracked with a shrug as he patted the pockets of his midnight blue uniform. His eyes were guarded but somehow still hopeful. Barnes didn’t quite get the chance to be annoyed by it because he was hit by a flash of ducking into a cafe to avoid the rain. He felt the stiffness of a new uniform against his skin, and cold droplets sliding down his neck from the tips of his hair. Asking for coffee and hearing Rogers tell him the tea was much better than the coffee in London. A pretty waitress bringing them sandwiches and tiny cakes on the sly with a shy wink because they were too expensive for two military boys to afford.    
  
“That’s a damn shame. Mind going back the way you came then? I don’t need you in the way.”  
  
“Yeah, I do mind,” Rogers huffed, sounding breathless even though he had no physical reason to. “Feds will be here in forty. We gotta get you outta here before they show up.”  
  
Barnes eyed the silver stripes and star on Rogers’ chest. Another memory, fast and vibrant. Two Corsairs flying overhead. A bear of a man letting loose a strange war cry while Rogers stared up at the planes, silent but with a childlike grin on his face. For a moment Barnes wondered if the uniform’s resemblance to those old planes was intentional. Probably so. 

This time the unbidden memory irritated him. 

“Kinda busy here, Rogers,” Barnes murmured, amending his tone to something a bit less abrasive. “Run along.”  
  
“Did you hear me? The Feds-”  
  
“I’m not worried about the Feds,” Barnes cut him off sharply. “I’m worried about your nobility getting in my way.”  
  
“You’re here to destroy the chair,” Rogers nodded calmly. “Let me help you. You could use someone to watch your back.”  
  
“I don’t trust anyone to watch my back,” Barnes muttered. “I don’t _know_ you, Rogers.”  
  
“You do,” the soldier insisted. “You know damn well that if I was out to hurt you, I would have fought back on the carrier.”  
  
“Stupid,” Barnes growled automatically at that. He clamped his mouth shut immediately, further annoyed at feeling like he was losing little bits of control that he desperately needed.  
  
“No, you took that all with you,” Rogers retorted back sarcastically and, just as instinctively, Barnes felt the inside joke deep within.  
  
“Stop it,” he barked. “I don’t want memories right now! You’re distracting me, Rogers! Go the fuck home-”  
  
“Bucky wait-”  
  
“Stop _calling_ me that!”  
  
His pulse was pounding through his temples as Rogers suddenly held up his hands.  
  
“Okay, I won’t! I’m sorry, it’s just… I’ve called you that since we were kids. It’s just habit.” Rogers kept his hands up as he took a step to the side to move around the security consoles. “I’m not leaving you here to do this alone. We can do it faster as a team-”  
  
“Not if you keep running your mouth,” Barnes snapped again.  
  
“I’ll shut up. I won’t get in the way. Just your wingman this time.”  
  
Barnes quickly weighed his options. He could knock Rogers unconscious, but couldn’t blow the building with Rogers still inside. He couldn’t move with stealth carrying super soldier deadweight on his back either. Further arguing with Rogers was just burning valuable time.  
  
“Fuck,” he muttered and turned for the opposite door, dragging Kellenberg along by the neck.

 

____________________________

 

“So what do you want me to call you?”  
  
Well that lasted all of six minutes. The question came to him as a whisper as they moved through a long, empty hallway.  
  
“Don’t call me anything,” Barnes grunted. If shit hit the fan, and it likely would, Rogers was bound to let the childhood nickname slip. It wasn’t that he really cared, but the name held attachments he couldn’t afford. Not yet. Maybe not ever.  
  
“Gotta call ya something,” Rogers answered quietly and, though his back was to the yappy blond, Barnes could hear the smile in his voice. “What if someone has you in their crosshairs?”  
  
“Shoot them. Or throw your fucking dinner plate at ‘em. I gotta explain that to you?” he retorted incredulously, refusing to look back at Rogers.  
  
“And if they’re a civilian…?”  
  
“There are no civilians here, Rogers,” Barnes muttered flatly. “Bunkers holding the asset require highest level clearance. Anyone here is prepared to give their life for HYDRA. You shouldn’t hesitate to take them up on it.”  
  
“Shouldn’t we be sure?”  
  
And there it was, that righteousness that would endanger them both in this base.  
  
Barnes spun and slammed Kellenberg against the wall by his throat. His trachea was undoubtedly damaged now, but it didn’t matter. He only needed to live long enough to punch a code into a security pad, scan his hand, and swipe his key card. If he had his choice, he’d hack off Kellenberg’s hand once he got the code and the card, but Barnes would never get the correct code if Kellenberg thought he was going to die.  
  
He didn’t remember Kellenberg by name, but his face would likely haunt Barnes’ nightmares for a long time. His particular brand of brutality was never less than creative.  
  
“I forget most personnel when I’m wiped, but this one I remember when I see his face. This one is in charge when Pierce isn’t here. He had initiations for everyone newly assigned to this base. Initiations that they have to pass to his satisfaction before they’re allowed permanent posting here.”  
  
Barnes turned his eyes to Rogers to make sure his next words carried enough gravitas.  
  
“I can tell you how many moles he has on his inner thigh, the size of his cock, and how long it usually takes to suck him off.” Barnes felt dead inside as Rogers’ mouth slacked. “Still concerned about shooting first?”   
  
Rogers looked like he wanted to be sick, but his eyes hardened as he stared at Kellenberg with pure hatred.  
  
“I’m sorry, Buck,” he whispered, not seeing the way it made Barnes flinch. He had to have heard the anger in Barnes’ voice though.  
  
“Don’t want your pity. Just want you to shut up.” Yanking Kellenberg away from the wall, he turned from Rogers and started back for the vault. He half expected Rogers to say more, but surprisingly, the other super soldier remained silent. Kellenberg didn’t have much choice. He was doing good just to breathe.  
  
________________________________

 

He began feeling his right hand over the various pockets of Kellenberg’s uniform until he found the key card. He slipped the card across the reader and pushed Kellenberg closer to the keypad. Kellenberg scoffed and let his hands hang loosely at his sides.The growl that rumbled through Barnes’ chest echoed into the hallway. He was about to instill some negative reinforcement when Rogers gently gripped his arm.  
  
“I got this one,” he murmured under his breath, sounding almost elated that he could step in and do something that he thought would impress Barnes. He took out his phone and pulled the key card from Barnes’ hand. He swiped it just as Barnes had, but he also held up his phone to the keypad. A flickering blue light appeared, and a number came up one digit at a time on his phone’s display. He quickly keyed in the code and stepped back. Kellenberg didn’t look happy, but Rogers sure did.  
  
Barnes saw the Smithsonian footage, and he had a few wispy bits of memory where he saw Steve Rogers smile. He was nowhere near prepared for the in-person version when it was flashed at him, wasn’t prepared for the way it tugged at his whole body. That smile was full-bodied and blinding. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch as if to join in, but that would likely give Rogers false hope. Rogers’ smile looked like it could physically reach out and hug him, and the tempting warmth that inched over his skin felt more dangerous than anything they would encounter inside the HYDRA base.  
  
And wasn’t that fucked up all to hell and back?  
  
He shook himself from his thoughts and pushed Kellenberg past Rogers, whose smile faltered a little. Hating that even more than the thought of giving him the wrong impression, Barnes glanced back over his shoulder as he muttered just loud enough for Rogers to hear.  
  
“Relic, my ass.”  
  
The soft snort of amusement he heard behind him when he turned back around seemed to confirm that he’d managed an acceptable middle ground. At least for the moment.  
  
“That what HYDRA thinks I am? A relic?” he whispered. “Lot of fuss over me if that’s true.”  
  
“Pierce thought you were a relic with potential.”   
  
“He said that?”  
  
“Read it in his journal after Fury killed him.”  
  
Rogers’ steps faltered behind him as they headed for the private elevator down to the vault.  
  
“You found a journal? He kept one?”  
  
Barnes kept walking, having to support more and more of Kellenberg’s weight. The sustained lack of normal breathing was probably close to collapsing one or both of his lungs. His lips had lost their color and were dried out from his wheezing. Barnes’ fingers calibrated slightly to ensure Kellenberg didn’t pass out.  
  
Rogers picked up his pace again, his long stride easily catching back up to them.   
  
“Buck-” He cut himself off quickly, remembering Barnes’ demand. “Did he… write about you? About the...”  
  
Cold fingers curled around his spine and gut as he considered not answering Rogers. He managed to shift his voice into something almost saccharine sweet as he answered quietly, a feat he was almost proud of because the alternative was currently unacceptable.   
  
“What, the wipes? The torture? The conditioning? The sick fucking games he liked to play to mess with what was left of my head? Oh yeah. He was very detailed.”  
  
“Oh god, Bucky,” Rogers moaned, completely forgetting himself. “Why would you read it once you knew what it was? Why put yourself through that?”  
  
Barnes actually stopped to give Rogers an incredulous glare. “Think it’d be better for me to just remember that shit with no warning? The good memories…they’re stubborn. They don’t come up easy. The bad shit though… that just slams right on through whenever it feels like it. Fuck that. At least this way I know I’m gonna fall off the fucking train before it happens.”  
  
All the color drained from Rogers’ face at the blunt retort, and a part of Barnes wanted to take it back. It was only a small part though. The rest of him needed and wanted to lash out at anything within reach. The restraint he was currently showing was exemplary.  
  
“I didn’t mean to…” Rogers trailed off as he fought for the right words, but Barnes already knew there were no right words. “I would give anything to make it so you never had to relive any of that.”  
  
Barnes could only stare. There might not be right words, but he had to at least give Rogers credit for sincere intent. He gave a subtle nod and jerked Kellenberg forward to walk toward the last door they would open before all hell broke loose.   
  
When they reached it, Barnes clapped his hand over Kellenberg’s mouth. It was doubtful he’d be able to manage a yell, but no point risking it. Adrenaline allowed people to do amazing things when it hit the bloodstream.  
  
“There’s one more room, and it’s gonna have a lot of HYDRA personnel inside. They’re there to guard and monitor the elevator. They’re all armed with tranquilizers. Two slows me down. Three severely incapacitates me. Four will put me down for at least three hours. Wouldn’t risk thinking you’re much more immune to them than I am, so don’t get hit, and for godsakes, Rogers-”  
  
“Aim straight,” Rogers finished. “I know.” He quirked his mouth into a dry smirk, but there was a sadness in his eyes that Barnes hated. A flicker, then a wave of memory hit him. He took a sharp step back and squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to shake the images free. Now just wasn’t the time. It was probably time to go to ground for a while once this mission was completed. He couldn’t afford to have this happen in the middle of a firefight or hand-to-hand combat.  
  
“Hey, you okay?”  
  
Barnes stepped away from Rogers’ steadying hand and nodded, his fingers still wrapped over Kellenberg’s mouth.  
  
“Memory.”  
  
“That’s good… even if it’s not a great one,” Rogers ventured hopefully. “Right?”  
  
“Not right this second,” he scowled. “You got a zip tie on you?”  
  
Rogers blinked at the sudden change of tone. “For him?” he asked, pointing at Kellenberg.  
  
“Yeah. Don’t need him for the code now.” He’d thought about using him as a body shield, but he wouldn’t protect any more area than his uniform already did.  
  
Rogers regarded the HYDRA officer for a quick moment, his nose twitching slightly as his lip curled. His fist shot out, catching Kellenberg in the chin with a right hook. The officer crumpled without a sound, and Rogers looked up with a lopsided grin. Barnes didn’t want to admit that he liked Rogers’ sass, but he couldn’t bring himself to be an outright asshole either.  
  
“Just walk in like you own the place. Don’t give ‘em time to react. Take the left, I’ll take the right.”  
  
“Copy that,” Rogers answered softly. At least with Rogers’ nifty little scanner it would be easy to access the elevator once the personnel were neutralized. He was a little glad for the super soldier showing up, even if he had no plans to ever say so.  
  
“They’re expecting me to stay in the wind until I’m caught, so they won’t expect me walking through the door. Use it against ‘em.”  
  
“Got it.” The blond looked deeply troubled by that, but Barnes wasn’t sure if it had to do with hurting ‘possible innocents,’ or the mention of his own forced capture. The look passed quickly, replaced with determined focus, so Barnes left it at that.  
  
________________________________  
  
The door slid open and Barnes dropped six agents immediately. Five were clean shots. The sixth wasn’t great, but he was distracted in ways that couldn’t currently be helped. From the corner of his eye, the blurred blue and silver of Rogers’ shield took down three in one throw. Impressive, especially since he’d shot a fourth and wounded a fifth before catching the shield with his left hand.   
  
The first salvo drew only frozen, stunned stares from the other agents in the room, but that changed once he and Rogers vaulted over the first row of computer consoles. The room was intentionally tedious to travel through, with no clear path from door to door. While it didn’t slow him down any, it did give the agents on duty places to duck for cover, and about half of them did just that. Four stood upright as they drew their tranquilizer guns. It was a fatal mistake, but adrenaline-fueled reactions were difficult to suppress without continual, brutal training. Pierce’s journal had shown that he’d been in cryo for some time before being brought out to go after Fury, and it had made for a sloppy containment squad.  
  
Sloppy or no, he still felt a dart hit the base of his thigh. Slightly better response time than he’d expected of them, but it only took one agent to actually have his shit together. The second dart hit him as he grabbed one of the agents and hurled him across the room. There was a deafening crash behind him, but he didn’t look. There was still too much chaos going on back there for Rogers to be down. An agent shoved a desk chair at him and he caught it with his left hand before it too was hurled across the room. The fact that he actually hit the other agent that he’d aimed it for was just bonus material.  
  
His limbs were starting to feel a little sluggish as he swiped the dart from his neck. It was unlikely the agents noticed much difference in his reactions, but the soft humming in his ears was causing memories to tickle the corners of his mind rapid-fire. Not one of them was pleasant in any way, shape, or form, and a sheet of anxious sweat spread over his back. The perceived chill it caused threw him into a frenzy. He had to get the room cleared before one of them could land a third dart, and an urgent sensation under his skin kept him aware of the other man fighting with him. He needed to clear the room for Rogers, too. He had to keep Stevie safe.   
  
Barnes shook his head clear of the too-familiar nickname and charged into a group of eight. One actually thought to use his real sidearm and Barnes felt the sear of a bullet wound just above his knee.Irrational fear set in for the group as they all tried to throw themselves upon him to restrain him. Or maybe they thought the darts were getting the better of Barnes. Bad choice either way. Two necks were snapped. A third was launched over a console to slam against the wall. Barnes let the hydraulics of his arm fully engage and swung out blindly, catching three more and leaving little of their skulls intact.

One of the agents recoiled from him as he got his Sig free of the seventh agent’s desperate grasp and shot him. He turned and realized it was now quiet save for a few moans and whimpers across the room. Rogers was approaching as the last standing agent slowly backed away from Barnes with his hands up. He was young and a little on the scrawny side. Blond hair. Blue eyes.

Barnes’ hand trembled a fraction as he pointed the Sig.  
  
“Buck… no. He’s just a kid.” Rogers’ voice was soft and imploring as he cautiously drew nearer to Barnes. He was trying to get into position to put himself between the kid and the Sig. Barnes’ snarl gave him pause, but only for a second. He turned and hissed at the young man.  
  
“Go. Run! Now!” He turned again to reason with Barnes. “Bucky-”  
  
The snap of the shot startled Rogers as much as the rending of fabric in his uniform. Rogers looked down at the tear in shock as the agent fell behind him. He turned and stared at the fallen young man, who was facing away still. As he pressed his palm to his own wound, he turned to give Barnes the exact stunned look that he had been dreading since he agreed to let Rogers tag along.  
  
“You shot him in the back.”  
  
Barnes eyed the wound. It was high up, just below his armpit. In the grand scheme of super soldier physiology, it was a scratch, but it was in a tender spot and would still be pretty sore for the rest of the day.  
  
“No civilians here,” he repeated, trudging past Rogers into the hallway to retrieve Kellenberg. He dragged the unconscious commander back into the guard room, taking detached note of the damage Rogers managed to inflict. That frisbee of his packed a punch, the evidence of which was etched into several spots on the walls and computer consoles. Numerous monitors were on the floor in ruins. It looked like he’d actually aimed for a few of them out of pure spite. He’d have to re-evaluate how much of a little shit Rogers might actually be.  
  
Rogers was still standing near the agent, gazing down at him.  
  
“You still gonna help me, or you gonna stand there and ponder the universe?”  
  
The soldier turned, his eyes stormy with mixed emotions that Barnes wasn’t about to touch with a ten foot pole.  
  
“I don’t-”  
  
“Could use that phone trick again,” Barnes cut in crisply, putting a brusque ring of authority behind his words. It was a bone-weary authority he wasn’t used to wielding anymore, but maybe there was more of Bucky Barnes left in him than he realized.   
  
Whatever it was about that particular tone, it worked. Rogers’ eyes cleared and his posture straightened dramatically.  
  
“On it,” he muttered as he walked to the security console in the wall. He took the key card from Barnes and held it over the reader, then put his phone close to the keypad to scan it. Once he’d punched in the numbers, Barnes slapped Kellenberg’s palm onto the imprint scanner. The door beeped, hissed, then clanged open. Barnes tossed Kellenberg’s limp body aside and walked into the elevator. It was tiny inside, and when Steve entered, their shoulders pressed together. The closeness wasn’t uncomfortable, but that was the problem; it was unnerving just how much he wanted to actually lean against Rogers. It felt so temptingly safe.  
  
“I don’t understand why that kid had to die.” Rogers held out longer than he would have given him credit for. It was easy enough to see his brain chewing through gears over the kill. “Just… explain it to me. He was terrified.”  
  
“They’re all terrified of me. Doesn’t make ‘em worth saving.”   
  
“He was running away though-”  
  
Barnes watched the floors slowly tick off above the door. The security plating, coding, and readout were new, but the lift itself was not. While his body appreciated the snail-like descent, his brain was wishing like hell the damn thing would just drop.  
  
“That kind of thinking is exactly why you should’ve stayed home. It’s why HYDRA’s survived all this time. None of you are willing to do what it takes to fully wipe them out. You don’t have the stomach for it”  
  
“He couldn’t have been more than twenty-two… twenty-three?” Rogers questioned dubiously and Barnes snorted loudly.  
  
“Want me to list off a few things that kid had to do in order to land this post, Steve?” He looked over sharply when he felt Rogers physically startle. The blond’s eyes were wide.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You…” He trailed off quickly and his expression became guarded. “Nothing. Forget it.”  
  
“I swear to God, Rogers-” Barnes growled as irritation started to creep around his bones again.  
  
“You called me Steve.”   
  
“No I didn’t,” he countered immediately. He wouldn’t have…  
  
“You did,” Rogers flicked a cautious look his direction before fixing his gaze back upon the elevator door. “It was... “ He didn’t seem sure about completing the thought aloud, so he just shrugged. Barnes stared at him a moment before forcing himself to step away.  
  
“Don’t-” Rogers’ eyes were sad and desperate again. “Please don’t do that, Buck. I’ll shut up.”  
  
“I can’t afford not to,” Barnes rasped back at him, pressing his back against the side of the elevator, “and I told you not to call me that.”  
  
“Sorry,” Rogers sighed, though he was genuinely contrite. When the hell had he slipped from being Captain America to just _Steve_? Like the closeness, it felt natural, and as he replayed the last few seconds in his mind, the name had rolled off his tongue with ease.   
  
“How do you know what the kid had to do? Did you know of him? Did…” Again, he let his words fade away, obviously deciding it wasn’t a road he should travel too far.  
  
“You’re just a glutton for punishment today, aren’t ya?” Barnes asked with forced lightness. “Stomach not turned quite enough yet?”  
  
Rogers’ chin jutted out along with his bottom lip, his expression turning to one of dark determination. “I feel like I should know. Maybe it’ll help me not feel conflicted about what we’re doing.”  
  
“Conflicted…” Barnes studied Rogers, taking in his stance and commitment to the topic. “Pierce demanded absolute loyalty. He had a list of objectives to choose from to prove that loyalty. Started ‘em out impersonal then changed it on them as they went.”  
  
“One thing,” Rogers requested past thinned lips and a grim expression. “Tell me one thing from the list.”  
  
“Just one?” Barnes mocked, leveling Rogers with eyes that were growing harder and colder as he recalled the list. “Objective Eight: Take out a school bus.”  
  
Rogers looked like he might actually become reacquainted with what he’d last eaten as the elevator finally pinged. Barnes didn’t bother asking him if he was really going to puke because the sight of two of his medical handlers triggered him into a mass of pure rage. A ragged snarl ripped from his throat as he went after them. He was vaguely aware of shots being fired and random yelling around him, but his focus was on the two doctors. Frankly, neither deserved the title and he sincerely doubted that either had ever taken note of the Hippocratic Oath at any point in their careers. By the time Rogers managed to haul him away from them, there was little left that would ever lend to their being easily identified as human, much less doctors. It didn’t matter that they were dead though; he still wanted at them. He wanted to continue until they were nothing more than grisly smudges upon the concrete floor. Stains that would forever declare this space an actual, tangible hell on earth.  
  
“...Barnes..! Barnes! _Bucky_!”  
  
The fury-fueled adrenaline left him far too quickly as Steve’s voice finally cut through the haze, and his knees gave out. The arms that initially held him back shifted just as quickly to hold him up. He didn’t realize he was hyperventilating until it registered that Steve kept telling him to just breathe. His body started trying to mimic Steve’s breathing pattern, and his head began to clear a bit… but it felt wrong. It felt… _backward_. He pushed away from the blond and staggered to the wall.   
  
Little things were filtering back into his consciousness now. The whirring of his arm. The humming in his ears. An electrical wire sparking somewhere to his right. Rogers’ elevated breathing and his own racing pulse. The blinking of lights around them. The chill of the room. The smell of blood. The smell of antiseptic-

He lurched sideways and threw up.

The smell was awful, but better than the antiseptic. That scent brought back memories of experiments… Memories of agony and a despair he never thought he’d escape.  
  
A hand rested gently against his back, and he wanted to curl up and sob.  
  
“Let’s finish this and get you out of here.”  
  
“The smell… Can’t take it.”  
  
“The… blood?” Rogers winced as he asked, but Barnes shook his head.  
  
“Medical… the antiseptic…”  
  
“Oh…” Rogers glanced back, then at the chair. “ _Oh_. Okay uh…” He backed away and looked more closely about the room. “Okay, may I…?”  
  
Barnes looked up to see Rogers gesturing at one of his knives. Tension kicked in for a split second before he forced himself to relax and nod. This was Rogers. _Steve_. He needed to trust the man that his frail angel had turned into.  
  
Steve took the knife from its sheath at his back, then went to kneel over the guard he’d taken out while Barnes was flipping out. He started cutting the guard’s uniform until he’d removed a section of the pant leg. He brought it back and held out both the fabric and the knife.  
  
“Here, try this. Tie it over your mouth and nose, Buck.”  
  
It didn’t even occur to him to be cross at Rogers for using the nickname again. He slowly took the items from Steve. After returning the knife to its place, he secured the fabric over his face. The smell of sweat didn’t disgust him when he considered its alternative. It amazed him and annoyed him at how quickly his conditioning broke down over a simple smell. It was something he’d need to work on overcoming. A weakness like that was something he couldn’t afford with the objectives still ahead of him.  
  
Steve held a hand out to him. He didn’t take it, but he did offer a look of thanks as he straightened from his crouch on the floor. He turned his eyes to the chair…  
  
He couldn’t touch it. Couldn’t go near it. Cold sweat beaded over his face and he took a stuttered breath inward.  
  
“Bucky.”  
  
His eyes flicked from the horrific device to Steve. His angel took off his helmet and the spikes of his blond hair messily pointed everywhere… like on the carrier, but without the damage he’d caused that day.  
  
“Let me do this for you?”  
  
He should do it himself. He should rip every wire and bolt out and pulverize them. It was the mission he’d assigned himself. Failing two missions in a row was unheard of.  
  
“Okay.” His voice didn’t sound right as he said it. He couldn’t really believe he’d allowed himself to say it, but there it was all the same. He stepped back and pressed himself to the wall as Steve nodded slowly, then started pulling the chair apart with his bare hands. When he reached the larger parts, he pulled his shield from his back and began hacking away at it.  
  
Barnes turned toward the bank of monitors and computers. They contained information. It was information on him. All him. Things not chronicled in Pierce’s journal and files. Every little detail he couldn’t be bothered with.   
  
He was done being on display. He was done being terabytes of data.  
  
Barnes tore into the first console and about to pull out the hard drive when Steve called out to him.   
  
“Bucky, wait!” He reached into his uniform and pulled a small, usb device from one of his pockets. “Use this instead. It’ll pull everything out and destroy those hard drives when it’s done.”  
  
That was a better option since he wanted the data, but didn’t want anyone else to have it. Carrying out the device was much easier than making sure the drives were sufficiently mangled. He did each console in turn, and was done before Steve finished. He crouched down in the corner and just watched as Steve pulled the last bits apart and threw them across the room in disgust. When he turned to look back at Barnes, the soft smile of accomplishment sent a ray of hope outward that Barnes couldn’t quite grasp yet.  
  
But the ray felt warm in spite of his reluctance. This time he accepted the hand held out to him. He pulled several spheres from his belt and placed them around the room. Steve’s chest rose and fell a little faster.  
  
“Got more for the upper floors, or will these take care of it all?”  
  
“All of it an’ then some.” This time when he smiled, it didn’t feel forced.  
  
“Okay then.”  
  
There were several sharp bursts, and Steve jerked and frowned. His eyes glazed over, then rolled back into his head. Barnes caught him as he went limp, and he saw the guard’s arm shaking as he realized he was out of tranquilizer darts. Barnes pulled his Sig and shot him, dead this time.  
  
“Damn it, Steve,” he hissed, “I told you to kill them.”  
  
There was no help for it. He hoisted Steve over his shoulder and went for the elevator. When he hit the button, there was a smear of fresh blood left behind. He looked at his hand. A small rivulet was dripping from where it had seeped through the cuff of his jacket. He held his arm out slightly and winced at the burn. Someone got a lucky shot in at some point, and he was just now feeling the effects. The two tranquilizer darts he’d taken took the edge off the pain, and he undoubtedly made the wound worse when he went apeshit on the two doctors. Minor inconvenience. He just needed to get it stitched before blood loss added to the effects of the darts and made him too woozy to cover his tracks properly.  
  
___________________________  
  
He watched from the shadows of the unlit room as the last of the bank collapsed in on itself. Beside him, Steve remained unconscious. The Feds would be on site at any moment, but he couldn’t leave yet. Looking down at the other man, Barnes knew that no matter what else he did to take down HYDRA, he would protect Steve. He wasn’t ready to be too near him, and he didn’t know if a time would come when he _was_ ready, but he would always make sure that Steve Rogers was watched over.  
  
___________________________  
  
Natasha Romanov surveyed the destruction with critical eyes. Beside her, Sam Wilson was looking down at his GPS with fear deeply etched into his face. He ran another calibration on the device, muttering to himself as he did.  
  
“Don’t bother,” she told him. “It’s not malfunctioning.”  
  
“He can’t be in that pile, Nat. That’s too much even for him.”  
  
“No,” Natasha smirked. “He’s here… just not in that pile.” She turned a full three-sixty before gripping his arm, her voice still too low for the emergency personnel around them to overhear.  
  
“Slip our audience. Meet me in the brownstone across the street.”  
  
“Think he’s there?” Sam asked, taking care not to look back at the building she’d mentioned.  
  
“I’m sure of it.”  
  
_____________________________________  
  
They cleared the first two floors together. When they reached the south side of the third floor, they were greeted by a figure in a dusty jean jacket and baseball cap. A figure with a shiny hand and an even shinier Sig Sauer pointed their direction. Behind him, Steve’s prone body rested on the floor.  
  
“He okay?” Sam asked. “Can I check him?”  
  
Barnes slowly stepped away, but didn’t lower his gun. “Just needs to sleep it off. Tranquilizer darts.”  
  
“You tranqued him?!” Sam jogged forward to kneel beside Steve. “With what, Moby Dick darts?”  
  
Barnes’ eye narrowed at Sam, but he didn’t answer. As Sam checked Steve’s pulse, Natasha quietly noted the soft slurring of Barnes’ previous words. Her eyes shifted around the room and saw the small backpack near the opposite door. There were streaks of blood on its handle. There were also smears of blood on Steve’s uniform where Barnes had carried him, and just the slightest favoring of his left leg.  
  
“How many darts did _you_ take?”  
  
Barnes’ eyes hadn’t left her since they entered the room, and he hadn’t lowered his gun.

“Not as many as he did.”

Sam looked over in surprise. “So you didn’t do this…? Why would HYDRA agents use darts instead of live ammunition?”  
  
“To catch me,” Barnes answered flatly. “Capture us both an’ it’s Christmas.”  
  
“Well he’s not hit anywhere,” Sam muttered gratefully after completing a cursory exam. “Not beat all to hell, and you actually stayed to make sure he was okay this time. Big ass improvement over before, so there’s that.”  
  
He didn’t hide the fact that he wasn’t exactly Team Barnes yet, and again, Barnes didn’t bother to respond. It was clear he viewed Natasha has the primary threat, not Sam.  
  
“You took a couple of bullets.” She nodded to his right arm. “You need medical attention.”  
  
“I’ll take care of it myself,” he answered her as Sam looked up, then at Barnes.  
  
“I can help, if you’ll let me.”  
  
“No.”  
  
Sam flicked his eyes back and forth between them. “C’mon man. It’s gonna be hard enough for you to get out of here without any bullet wounds. Let me check ‘em. I can stitch ‘em up if they need it.”  
  
“You’re St- Rogers’ friends and I almost killed you both. Not letting you near me.”  
  
“You did let us near you though,” Natasha countered. “Why did you stay with him when you could already be gone? You stayed to make sure we’d find him instead of the Feds.”

She nodded her head toward Sam. “Let him help you, James. We know what happened to you. What you did before you started to remember isn’t on you.”

His expression faltering, Barnes’ eyes darted between her, Sam, Steve, and the chaos beyond the window. His eyes steeled, and he straightened his stance. He backed toward the door with his eyes still darting like a feral animal. His lips tightened slightly as he picked up the backpack and slung it over his shoulder.  
  
“Barnes, wait,” Sam pleaded. “Steve was stressing out just over dislocating your shoulder before. He’ll have our asses if we let you leave after being shot.”  
  
“No. Keep him off my trail. He needs to stay away from me.”  
  
“You know that won’t happen, James,” Natasha chided him. “You don’t have to remember that much to know he won’t listen to us where you’re concerned.”  
  
“Figure it out,” Barnes snapped. He backed out of the door and disappeared into the hallway. Sam started for the door, but Natasha stepped in front of him and put a hand against his chest.  
  
“Don’t. He needs time. We’ll do what we can to give it to him. Let’s just get Steve out of here.”  
  
“You sure that’s the best plan?”  
  
“It’s the only plan he’ll let us have, Sam. He’ll come back to Steve when he’s ready,” she sighed, patting his forearm then walking over to sit beside Steve’s body. She scooted over and tucked her thigh under his head. There was no way in hell they could carry Steve out of the building without being noticed, so they’d wait until Stark showed with their backup.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Пошел на хуй. Это не работает теперь.” - Fuck you. That doesn't work anymore.


End file.
